PART II. CHRIST'S VICTORY ON EARTH. THE ARGUMENT. Christ brought into the place of combat, the wilderness, among the wild beasts, Mark i. 13.-Described by his proper attribute, the Mercy of God-whom the creatures cannot but adore-by his unity with the Godhead-The beauty of his body, Cant. v. 11; Psal. xlv. 2; Gen. xlix. 12; Cant. v. 10; and Isa. liii. 2.-By preparing himself to the combat with his adversary, that seemed what he was not-some devout Essene-closely tempting him to despair of God's providence, and provide for himself-But was what he seemeth not, Satan, and would fain have led him, 1st. to Desperation; charactered by his place, countenance, apparel, horrible apparitions, &c.-2d. To Presumption; charactered by her place, attendants, &c.-and by her temptation, to Vain-glory; poetically described from the place where her court stood, a garden ;--from her court and courtiers ;-pleasure in drinking; in luxury; avarice; ambitious honour; from her throne, and from her temptation.-The effect of this victory in Satan; the angels; the creatures. THERE, all alone, she spied, alas the while! That now had measur'd many a weary mile, The citizens of the wild forest ran, And all with open throat would swallow whole the man. Soon did the lady to her graces cry, And on their wings herself did nimbly strow, I After her coach a thousand loves did fly, Made shipwreck of themselves, and vanish'd quite away. Seemed that man had them devoured all, For when they saw their Lord's bright cogni zance Shine in his face, soon did they disadvance, And some unto him kneel, and some about him dance. Down fell the lordly lion's angry mood, With fawning tongue he lick'd away the dust; And ev'ry one would nearest to him thrust, And ev'ry one, with new, forgot his former lust. Unmindful of himself, to mind his Lord, And on the lion's back the goat did ride, If he stood still, their eyes upon him baited, If walk'd, they all in order on him waited, And when he slept, they as his watch themselves conceited. Wonder doth call me up to see—(0 no, Upon a grassy hillock he was laid, As with her leaves she seemed to crown his head, The Sun so near, needs must the winter ceaseThe Sun so near, another spring seem'd to in crease. His hair was black, and in small curls did twine, One of ten thousand souls I am, and more, That of his eyes, and their sweet wounds, complain : Sweet are the wounds of love-never so sore- He never lives that thus is never slain. What boots it watch? those eyes, for all my art, Mine own eyes looking on, have stole my heart: In them Love bends his bow, and dips his burning dart. As when the sun, caught in an adverse cloud, His cheeks as snowy apples sopp'd in wine, Here love-sick souls did eat, there drank, and made Sweet-smelling posies, that could never fade,But worldly eyes him thought more like some living shade. For laughter never look'd upon his brow, |